


It's the Little Things

by HamandChiise



Series: Junker Trash [5]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Gratuitous use of punctuation and pauses, Junkrat being... himself, Mania, Paranoia, Stream of Consciousness, its up to you, this can be seen as gen or slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 21:32:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17988887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HamandChiise/pseuds/HamandChiise
Summary: Junkrat knew he was a few pieces short of a fully working rig. He keenly recalled his laughter- his roiling and mad barking laughter- being enough to cause nervousness and withdrawals in other people. There were many that, after such a display, refused to work with such a loose cannon. But he was more sane in some aspects than others. He was incredibly capable at pyrotechnics and planning (well, maybe more the former than the latter) and anyone who had anything to say about his methods couldn’t argue with the sheer wealth and reputation Junkrat had managed to accumulate, much less be able to argue after he’d decked their jaw into shrapnel in their skull for bothering to gripe about him.But it was the little things sometimes that could tip him off the scale into a full blown episode of mania.





	It's the Little Things

(Holy shit, HamandChiise is back at it with a fic? Damn straight I am. I really write the best when I'm going through some shit, and so here we are. Usually I am the Roadhog in the situation but lately I've been feeling the manic energy of Junkrat and it all erupted out in this mess. Enjoy~)

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Junkrat knew he was a few pieces short of a fully working rig. He keenly recalled his laughter- his roiling and mad barking laughter- being enough to cause nervousness and withdrawals in other people. There were many that, after such a display, refused to work with such a loose cannon. But he was more sane in some aspects than others. He was incredibly capable at pyrotechnics and planning (well, maybe more the former than the latter) and anyone who had anything to say about his methods couldn’t argue with the sheer wealth and reputation Junkrat had managed to accumulate, much less be able to argue after he’d decked their jaw into shrapnel in their skull for bothering to gripe about him.

But it was the little things sometimes that could tip him off the scale into a full blown episode of mania. Something like lacking the appropriate resource, or being forced to wait an extra half-hour for a guard change, or a store being out of boba tea. One such instance happened to be presently occurring. As mad of a system as it was, Junkrat’s work table and bench **had **a system, dammit, and he did NOT appreciate other people meddling! They _had_ to have meddled, there was no one else foolish enough to come around as many different dangerous chemicals and just toss things wherever they damn well pleased.

Yet here he was, staring at a workbench that was decidedly NOT how he had left it when he’d last been here working. Junkrat usually had his milk tea (with boba, half-sweet ) canteen on the left side and his nitroglycerin canteen on the right side-he’d made THAT mistake one too many times to keep them right next to each other- on the workbench. But now the nitroglycerin canteen was firmly in the middle, mocking him with it’s bright orange sticker labeling it as an explosive. To make it **worse** , his current project was on the right hand side in the canteen’s place! Furthermore, his tools and tinkering bits were strewn all over the place willy-nilly, instead of strewn about where he’d dropped them on purpose to next use them as he reassembled this bomb! There were even two right _next_ to each other! What was THAT all about? Who had **DONE** this, clearly whoever had come in here tampering had something against his brilliant organization system or had been sniffing around for something more interesting. Ohhhh did that make his blood boil...

What did this bloke have against _his _methods? Even his wiring was placed in a nice and organized pile instead of the somewhat snarled together mess he had to gnash and pluck at with his teeth like a carrion vulture to get at…. and- were those his **_wire strippers_**? What the hell?! He hadn’t seen those in a coon’s age! They were slipped right at the edge of his vision, just behind his boba canteen and he pushed the canteen away in his haste to tug them into plain view, nearly toppling it over as he turned the old metal tool this way and that…. Curiouser and curiouser...

...Someone HAD to have been here- but who? Who would come and mess with his pyrotechnics? Who had stolen his wire strippers and only just returned them now? This workbench was in Roadie’s garage, no other Junker would be foolish enough to come here and expect to leave here with their lungs intact, so who was it….

“Could it have been? Nah-" Junkrat dismissed that fluttering thought before it could even deign to take root.

Roadhog would never bother to mess with his workstation, that would be beyond idiotic of the giant Heffer. But now that he thought about it, no one else but Roadhog would have been in here. He hadn’t messed with anything on the bench since the day before yesterday. He’d been talking with Roadhog about their latest heist as the big man worked on his bike until Roadhog, with barely a grunt, had left Junkrat to his work, the ungrateful bastard. Junkrat made these plans and talked over them just **FOR** his partner, and here he was, not even listening and then, apparently, sneaking in after Junkrat had left just to mess with all of his things!

 _That was it_ , he was going to have to give Roadie what for, how dare the other move things around, just because it was HIS garage? Where did the lummox get off doing that? It was ridiculous, just because there might be a chance of a small explosion or two didn’t mean that Roadie knew a damn thing about his system or his methods… or explosives for that matter! Junkrat straightened up and moved everything back to the way he’d had it before the oaf had mucked it all up, eager to begin stomping out to give Roadie a piece of his mind and maybe his fist to chew on- but scrambling back to get the small grenades he’d come into the garage in the first place for, with a chuckle. Can’t forget the whole reason he came, right? But now- why did he want to talk to Roadhog? He’d wanted to refill his grenade launcher…

Then he came in to the garage…and... wait-

 **“Right!”** He’d screeched as it came back to him with the force of a titanic punch to the gut. Roadie’d been rooting around in all of his things! How DARE he! If he’d wanted something all he had to do was bloody well ASK! Was that really so hard? Well- maybe for a Monosyllabic pig man, it might be, but then he could have at least grunted or something vaguely in his direction before he did it… which- you know, he _might_ have if Junkrat had misinterpreted the grunt from the night before wrong- it was hard to read the guy when he didn’t bother to use his damn words! Either way, he was going to get to the bottom of it, and get to the bottom of it right now, thank you VERY much.

He stormed to where Roadhog had been working on repairing his chain for his hook outside, tugging weak links apart with his bare hands (and wasn’t _THAT_ a sight to behold, **holy dooley** Junkrat was a bit _weak_ just watching him work) to replace it with stronger chain pieces and solder it closed with a blowtorch.

“Roadie! We need to have some words, mate!” Junkrat snapped as he walked closer, not getting distracted by the delightfully small torch compared to Roadhog’s massive, meaty mitts. It was like a blowtorch for infants in his grasp- downright hilarious…. Maybe he needed more pairs of tiny tools… Junkrat would have to put it on the list of things to steal. But he WASN’T DISTRACTED. **NOT AT _ALL_. Focus, Junkrat...**

He waited for a response, tapping his foot. But Roadhog didn’t even turn to look at him or pay him any mind, talk about **SOME NERVE**. He just kept working, didn’t even bother a grunt or a pause of any type to indicate he was listening either, the ruddy prick. Junkrat got closer and slammed a metallic fist against the bare, soft flesh of Roadhog’s back.

“Oi! Listen up you **boring** boar, I want words with you about you digging around in my things!” He pointed, accusingly, as finally Roadhog turned around to bother looking at him. Too guilty to even look him in the eyes, eh? How _low_ can one man truly be. Roadhog cocked his head, asking ‘What are you talking about?’ in the sort of typical Roadhog head turn that usually was reserved for when he’d accidentally bitten through something and was electrocuting himself just a little bit- a sort of “this is stupid of me for even asking but I'm asking anyway” headturn.

“You moved my workbench around, Roadie! Those are MY things and you just moved them all around _however you liked_ and completely messed up the system. I had a **live** bomb in there, you could have blown off those enormous hams you call hands!” He continued shrilly, waving both of his around for dramatic effect. He’d already lost one hand due to explosives and negligence, he deep down didn’t want the same for his friend- his friend who was touching all of JUNKRAT’S _HARD_ EARNED (STOLEN) TOOLS AND SUPPLIES.

“...That was you.” It was short and sharp and the reply caused an outraged shriek from the smaller man in response. Like **shit** it was, he wouldn’t have ever moved any of his things around in such a ridiculous manner. He’d finished up shortly after Roadhog was done for the night and gone to bed, same as the other! He shook his head violently, moving to punch at Roadhog’s soft belly now- furious that the other wouldn’t just own up to it already. What kind of partner and bodyguard lied to someone so callously?! Junkrat would never have mucked his own system up, it was obviously Roadie’s doing. Junkrat was wounded, obviously they couldn’t be partners anymore, there was just no trusting Roadhog after such a betrayal. He was going to have to collect all his things and take off, go somewhere where his supplies and skills and work table were much more appreciated than here. He’d have to hoof it, get himself a bag….

There was no reason the canteen and bomb had been moved around, all the wiring straightened up and tools just tossed carelessly about like a dust storm had blown in. Unless- he’d needed a _specific_ wire and dug through the snarl to get it, untangling the other wires. Then since it was late, having to move the bomb closer to the only light in the room, which was on the right hand side of the worktable… and then setting tools down and away after realizing the light wasn't good enough for work at such a late hour, nearly three am, to scramble into the passenger car for ‘just a quick nap’ only to fall dead asleep until nearly noon the next day. As he began to recall that being **exactly** what had actually happened.

 _“Ohhhhh…_ ” He muttered to himself. Seemed he’d forgotten all **about** that part. He gave the stomach he’d been trying to punch a gentle pat. He’d been accusing Roadie of something he himself had been responsible for all along. He felt a bit like a horse’s arse now, didn’t he? His own mania had cooked up a paranoid scheme and he’d nearly come to blows with his bodyguard and broken up the partnership because he’d forgotten, until that moment, what he had done.

“Sorry Roadie, must have slipped my **mind**. Like you’d know what to do with any of that equipment anyway, total amateur…” He snickered. Roadhog merely grunted the ‘Great, are we done now, I have things to do’ grunt, and went back to taking the chain apart to repair. Junkrat’s eyes followed the movement with an appreciative hum. “You wanna put those hands to better use, Roadie?” He purred, moving closer. Roadhog didn’t even respond, he just kept working. Junkrat huffed, crossing his arms. **Honestly** , Roadie had _some nerve_ , not even paying attention to him now…. How _cruel_ of his partner.

But really, the little things were always becoming bigger things with the pair of them around. It would all work out.


End file.
